The One Adventure He'll Never Have
by Aibhinn
Summary: PostDoomsday reunion fic. In Doomsday, the Doctor references The one adventure I'll never have. What if he does have it?
1. Chapter 1

"Doctor? _Doctor!_"

The sound of his name finally penetrated his thoughts, and the Doctor blinked, turning his befuddled gaze back to Martha, who was clicking her fingers in front of his face. He blinked again. "I'm sorry—what was that?"

She was frowning, eyes dark with concern as she lowered her hand. "You were telling me about Devlorkian greeting customs, and then you just stopped in the middle of your sentence and stared into space."

"Ah." Yes, he had done that. The sensation was not one he'd ever believed he could feel again, after all. His hearts were still racing.

"And you stayed like that for a long time."

"I'm sure," he said distractedly. His mind was still wrapped up in the awareness that had just taken him by the metaphorical shoulders and shaken him soundly.

No, he couldn't have felt _that_. It was impossible.

"Your mouth was just hanging open, like you'd seen something that utterly shocked you."

"Probably." But then again, how impossible was 'impossible', really? He'd become much more careful about using that word, lately. He moved around the console to the monitor screen, punched a few buttons.

Rassilon. The TARDIS had felt it as well. He felt a shimmery sensation just underneath his hearts, a sensation he hadn't felt in longer than he cared to remember: hope.

"You were drooling."

_That_ got his attention. His head shot up and he glared at Martha, who glared right back. "I most certainly was not. Time Lords," he said with dignity, "do not _drool_." His mind presented him with a memory of a time when he had, indeed, drooled, but seeing that much milky-pale skin at once would have set any male in the vicinity drooling….

He shoved the thought away.

"Time Lord or not, wipe your chin."

Self-consciously, he did. His hand came away damp, and he dried it on his suit coat. Well, perhaps he had dribbled a little. After what he'd just felt—or not felt—or thought he'd felt—what the TARDIS herself had felt—

But it couldn't have been.

Could it?

"We're not going to Devlork," he said abruptly, turning back to face the console and adjusting its controls with more force than was strictly necessary.

Martha was still frowning. "We're not?" She'd been with him long enough to be familiar with his mercurial mood shifts, but not long enough to be resigned to them—or excited by them.

"No."

"Then where are we going?"

The TARDIS began her rhythmic music as she changed course. It sounded as though she were singing. Well, it always sounded as though she were singing, at least to him, but for so long, her song had been one of loneliness and grief. Now there was hope. He grinned, full of that hope himself. "We're going to Sector 4.4/Gamma/Mu," he told her, delighted.

She shifted, folding her arms and leaning her hip against the railing. "And what's there?"

"I don't know!" he said enthusiastically, flipping and spinning and pumping controls with abandon. "Could be nothing. Well, not _nothing_," he amended. "The only place you can really get _nothing_ is the Void, and we can't get into the Void. Or through it. Or anywhere near it, really, thanks to—" He paused, feeling the familiar flicker of loss. "Well, thanks to me, actually," he finished a bit lamely, then the grin was back. Really, this was well worth grinning about. Hope! Who'd've thought it? "But it might not be what I expect. Though it could be. It could be a planet, or a ship, or a largish asteroid, even. We won't know 'til we get there."

"And why," Martha asked in the tone he'd come to associate with her feeling rather put upon, "do we want to go to a sector where we don't know what we're looking for?"

"Not what, who. I know who I'm looking for. Well, not _exactly_ who, but more or less. I just don't know where to find him."

"Him? Who's _him_?"

The Doctor turned fully to face her, and she blinked in the glow of his best, full-on my-God-isn't-the-universe-wonderful smile. "We're going to see whether I've just gone completely nutters," he announced, "or whether I really did feel the presence of another Time Lord."

* * *

Sector 4.4/Gamma/Mu was rather a big place, the Doctor reflected, as sectors go. Well, mathematically, sectors were all the same size, as three-dimensional space was measured, but 4.4/Gamma/Mu just seemed bigger when one was looking for the proverbial Time-Lord-in-a-very-great-deal-of-space.

"Just making sure I've got things quite clear," Martha was saying as he watched the monitor carefully and listened for even the slightest change in the sound of the TARDIS. She was sitting on the bench surrounding the console, her mocha-coloured skin turning odd shades of puce in the flashing lights of the controls. "You're the last of the Time Lords. The rest of your people were destroyed in a war. And yet, you think you've found another one?"

"Not found, precisely," he corrected, pushing his specs back up his nose with one hand. "Detected. Well, _sensed_, really. A sort of fleeting flash of light. Up here." He tapped his right temple with two fingers.

"But if any of them had survived, why hadn't you—sensed—them by now?"

"The universe is a big place, Martha," he reminded her, "even if you're just talking three dimensions. Toss in the fourth one, time, and you've got an almost infinite number of places and times one of my people could have been when our planet burned. And then, add in all the parallel universes and all of _their_ different times, and—well, really, it's not so surprising that a few of us might have made it."

It was, though, despite his efforts to be somewhat offhanded in his explanation. No matter where in time or space the Time Lords were, if they were in this universe, he should have been able to sense any who had survived. And if they weren't in this universe, they shouldn't have been able to come back through the Void. Two of them working together, maybe, could do it, but if that was the case, one, why were two Time Lords working together in another dimension, and two, why hadn't they come back in all this time?

It was, as one of his favourite characters in Earth's musical theatre had once observed, a puzzlement.

"But why hadn't you sensed them before?"

"Dunno," he sighed, "and I wouldn't want to guess. There are just too many variables. I do know we're close, though—and so does she." He patted the console affectionately, feeling rather than hearing the pleased rumble his ship emitted. "If she weren't detecting his presence, I'd think I really was cracking up. But if both of us are sensing him—well, the chance of pure crack-up goes down significantly, while the chance of us actually finding another Time Lord goes up by the same amount. An inverse proportion, you see, very scientific and mathematical and all that rot."

Martha folded her arms over her breasts and he hid a grin. She'd never been particularly understanding of his occasional lapses into pure silliness. Not that she was staid or boring—far from it—but she didn't have quite the same sense of humour he did, and when she didn't get a joke, or thought he was poking fun at her (which, to be truthful, he sometimes was), she tended to get cross. "So we just wander around the sector until you meet up with this Time Lord?" she asked.

"Pretty much, yeah. I've got the TARDIS sending out a signal of her own, so if he picks it up, he could come to us, instead of us coming to him."

"Does he know you're out here?"

"Oh, yes," the Doctor said firmly, not entirely certain he was correct. "Absolutely. He probably doesn't know precisely where we are, though, any more than we know precisely where he is. It's rather like two people in a dark, empty warehouse, trying to find each other by tap-dancing in a specific rhythm at specific intervals. Not impossible, and certainly easier than just bumbling round hoping you'll smack into something softer than a support pillar, but not easy either. It just takes some time."

The TARDIS shifted, causing both of them to almost lose their balance. Martha clutched at the seat of the bench, clearly nervous at the unusual movement, but the Doctor righted himself and turned back to the monitor, beaming. "Aha!" he said, taking the monitor in both hands and leaning forward to give it a sound, smacking kiss. "She's brilliant, our TARDIS. She's tracked him down to a planetoid circling a small sun. It's even got an atmosphere, though it might be a little thinner than you're used to." He looked at Martha. "Ever been to Denver?"

"Denver?" She blinked. "Is that a planet?"

"No," he said patiently. "It's a city on Earth, in America. Built way up in the Rocky Mountains. They call it the Mile-High City, because it's about that far up above sea level. Air's fairly thin there—not unbreathable, of course, but thinner than pretty much anywhere else on the planet except other cities in other mountains. I just reckoned Denver would be a more likely place for you to visit than, say, Kathmandu. Anyhow, the air pressure on this planetoid is going to be pretty similar—that is to say, thin enough to be uncomfortable. D'you want to suit up?" He jerked his head toward the hallway leading to the rest of the TARDIS. There was a room filled with space suits back there, which they'd used while exploring a derelict ship a few weeks ago.

She cocked her head, contemplating the idea. "There's enough oxygen for me to breathe there, yeah?"

"Breathe, yes, if you're not doing anything particularly active. Wouldn't want to have you running for your life in that atmosphere, though." She continued to think, and he added, knowing that she was probably remembering all the times they'd ended up running for their lives, "Or you could stay in here. Perfectly safe, and the TARDIS will make sure there's enough air and everything for you. I shouldn't be long."

She looked at him sharply, but he was working the controls, getting ready to set the TARDIS down on the planetoid. He carefully kept his emotions off his face; he would never, ever have said anything to her, but he rather hoped she'd decide to stay. He wasn't certain what his reception would be, especially since it had been his action that had destroyed Gallifrey, and he didn't really want to put her in the middle of all that.

She sighed and rubbed her forehead with the back of a hand. "All right, yeah," she said reluctantly. "I'll stay here. I don't want to slow you down if you do have to run."

He couldn't help but think, _Rose would have suited up if she'd had to, but she'd have been right in the thick of it. Couldn't have held her back if I'd tried_. He shoved the memory resolutely away (again) and said, "All right, fine with me. Like I said, shouldn't be too long. May bring him on board, if he's missing his TARDIS. See if I can drop him somewhere."

"You keep saying 'him'," Martha observed, crossing her legs. "How do you know it's a man?"

"He's not a man; he's a Time Lord," the Doctor said in his best pedantic voice and had the pleasure of watching her eyes narrow. Really, it was too easy to get her goat. "But if you're asking how I know he's male—well, can you tell by sight whether another human's male or not?"

"Most of the time. Depends on how they're dressed."

"Well, all right. If a human was naked, could you tell at sight whether it was male?"

"Of course."

He tapped his temple again. "Can't clothe your thoughts."

A look of understanding passed over her face, and she smiled. "Well, then, Doctor," she said, rising to her feet, "I think I'll go browse the library while you catch up on old times. Call me when it's time to go, hey?"

She wandered out, long legs in a short dress, and he wondered briefly why he never had the desire to watch her go, the way he'd always watched Rose.

Actually, no, he didn't wonder. He knew.

Taking a deep breath, he started the TARDIS on her rematerialization routine, listening to her familiar song and hoping against hope that his reunion with one of his people, after all this time, would be as joyous as reunions were supposed to be.

* * *

Black and rocky, that's what this place was. Black. Blackety-black-blacken. Black rocks, black sky. The sun was small enough that it didn't truly light the sky the way the Earth's sun did. Good job it was high summer, or even the Doctor would have had to wear a pressure suit just to keep from freezing to death. As it was, it was probably no more than two or three degrees Celsius out here. He buttoned his long coat, sticking his hands in his pockets as he walked carefully over the rocky terrain, watching his feet. This was igneous rock of the type found on Earth in Hawaii—black (as he had already noted) and anything but smooth. Why would a Time Lord want to meet another Time Lord here? Why not someplace civilised, like Arten III, where they could get a cup of the best tea in the galaxy and chatter away while Martha amused herself shopping?

Unless… this Time Lord didn't want to be found.

The Doctor suppressed a shiver, told himself it was caused by the ambient temperature rather than his nerves (_Time Lords don't get nervous_, he thought half-heartedly), and carried on. The sonic screwdriver had told him the ship was this way; ergo, he'd walk this way until he found it.

He came around a tall outcropping and stopped, frowning, then looked back the way he came. Nothing there, so he faced forward again. A big, blue box stood before him. A very familiar big blue box. The TARDIS. _His_ TARDIS, with its police-box chameleon circuit. He'd know it anywhere. But how had he made it back here? He hadn't walked in a circle. Had he? He pulled out the screwdriver and checked his bearing. No, still going the right direction. So what was this?

He ventured forward slowly, screwdriver still out, just in case. "Hallo?" he called, scanning the area with both eyes and device. "Anyone there?"

A figure came round the TARDIS. He was tall and lean, with dark-brown hair that framed his face in soft waves. His eyes were large and deep brown, his face open and expressive. There was something familiar about him, something in the build, the face, the smile that spread across his face—

"Do I know you?" the Doctor asked, interested, as he stepped forward a little farther. "You seem familiar, somehow, but I can't quite place you. Of course, I hardly knew everyone on Gallifrey, but maybe I knew your parents, or someone else in your family. I'm the Doctor."

"Yeah, I know," the stranger said. Funny, he didn't have a Gallifreyan accent. It was more…. London? "I'm Alex," he continued, still grinning. "Alex Tyler."

The Doctor froze, feeling as though he'd just slammed into a brick wall. "Alex—who?" he managed.

"Tyler." Alex stepped forward, closing the gap between them. They were almost exactly the same height, the Doctor noticed mechanically between bouts of trying to breathe and not daring to believe what his senses were telling him. Same height. Same build. Same hair. But those eyes, those familiar, knowing eyes—those weren't the Doctor's.

But he knew whose they were.

"Alex—Tyler." The Doctor took in a deep breath again, let it out slowly. "So do I? Know you, that is?"

"Not yet, but you were right—you do know my family." Alex reached into the inside pocket of his brown leather jacket and pulled out a photograph, which he handed to the Doctor. The Doctor stared at it, feeling as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. "My mother is Rose Tyler," Alex continued. "And we have to go back to her time—to 2007 London, in the parallel universe—and save her, and Grandmum, and Granddad, and me."

The Doctor looked up. "We?" he repeated, hopefully.

"We." Alex flashed a grin. "You and me—Dad."


	2. Chapter 2

A son. That was all the Doctor could think as they headed inside, where it was warmer. He felt dizzy, and not from the lack of oxygen. He had a _son_. He and Rose—together—had had a child. It was beyond joy, beyond comprehension.

_A son, with Rose._

The picture Alex had given him had made it quite clear. It was still in his pocket: himself and Rose sitting on the floor, with her tucked between his long legs. Both of them had their hands resting on her very pregnant belly. The swooping sensation in his stomach whenever he saw it—or thought about it—was enough to make him feel as though he'd gone completely mad. Oh, he'd always known it was _possible_ for him to impregnate a human—he himself was half human, after all—but until Rose, he'd never felt the desire to. And once he'd finally given in to what he'd wanted for so long, the thought of children had never really crossed his mind. It was to be Rose and the Doctor, together as long as it was possible for them to be. Never Rose and the Doctor and a child.

But now that the child was a reality, he found that he couldn't be happier. Unless, of course, Rose were right here with him—and she would be. Soon, if what Alex had said was true. After almost a full year without her smile, tongue stuck mischievously between her teeth, he now had a way to see her again.

They stepped inside, and he realised that the interior of Alex's TARDIS was familiar—so familiar she actually trilled a greeting in the Doctor's head. He grinned broadly, walking up to the console and stroking it. She purred. "Is this—?" he asked.

"She's yours. You loaned her to me, so I could come and get you." Alex looked as though he were about to continue, then closed his mouth again. "I think I shouldn't go any further with that line of thought."

"Well, it's an interesting variation on 'Can I borrow the car keys?'" the Doctor said flippantly, to hide his amazement. His TARDIS, from a different time. From the future. _His_ future, with his Rose and their Time Lord son.

"Let's have some tea and warm up, and I'll tell you everything I can." Alex was heading for the kitchen with the ease of long familiarity. The Doctor followed, bestowing one last caress on the TARDIS's console.

The kitchen was still in the same place—not always the case with the TARDIS, if she decided it was time for a refurbishment—and when he arrived, Alex was already pouring two cups of tea. He handed one to the Doctor, who sipped it and found it perfect. "Either you've done your research," he said appreciatively as the warmth spread through his body, "or you've made tea for me before."

"You know I can't answer that question," Alex said evenly, sipping his own tea and settling into one of the straight-backed wooden chairs. The Doctor unbuttoned his coat and did the same.

"So I do—which is why it wasn't phrased as a question. In fact, I'm not going to ask you _any_ questions. I know you're a Time Lord, or at least enough of one to trigger the recognition sense. I know you've got the double heartbeat and the respiration bypass and all that." He leant forward. "What I don't understand is how I missed sensing you before this. No matter where you were in the timeline, I should have known you were there. And I know you weren't in the parallel universe all this time."

"You do, eh?" Alex's eyes danced as he sipped his tea, just as Rose's did when she was teasing him. "How do you know that, then?"

"Because you wouldn't have been able to get back all by yourself to come find me, unless—" He stopped, mouth dropping open for a moment as the idea struck him. "Unless you _had_ been living all this time in the other universe, with me, until you knew it was time to cross the Void and come get me to save your mother in her—and your—past." The Doctor's grin spread across his face. "Oh, that's _brilliant_! I get to be a second Time Lord to hold the Void open and help you come back and fetch me, so that I can be in the parallel universe to hold the Void open again in a few years! A real, proper time loop with near-paradoxes and everything! Oh, this is marvellous. And, of course, once the current me is in 2007 rescuing Rose, you'll be free to pop back to your normal time and the future me and carry on with your life. Well-done!"

Alex chuckled, apparently at his enthusiasm, but shook his head. The Doctor's face fell. "What?" he asked. "Am I wrong?'

"Well, it's not—quite—like that," Alex said. "It's a bit more complicated—and also a bit simpler." He set his teacup down, rested his hands on his thighs, and closed his eyes.

And disappeared from the Doctor's mind.

It was all he could do not to drop his own tea. "What—how did—what did you do?" he managed finally, as Alex opened his eyes again and managed to look sheepish. Belatedly, he realized he'd promised not to ask any questions, but this was really too much to just politely ignore.

"I can hide it," his son said simply. "Hide who I am, what I am. I'm not as powerful as a full Time Lord, but there are things I can do that you can't. Like this." He tapped his temple, then grinned. "And it's all your fault, too."

"My fault?" The sudden silence in his mind was … disturbing. He'd lived with it so long that it might seem he should be used to it, but that sudden shut-off was too much like the destruction of Gallifrey for his comfort. "Could you—turn it back on?" he asked, trying not to sound pleading.

Alex closed his eyes again, and the sense of him came surging back. The Doctor had to keep himself from going limp with relief. "You sent Mum home in the TARDIS when you were in the game station with the Daleks," Alex explained. "Tried to save her life, but she wasn't having it; she opened the TARDIS and saw into its soul. Took the whole Time Vortex into herself, yeah?"

"Yes," the Doctor agreed, feeling a bit dizzy that this stranger—_no, not a stranger, my son_—knew so many details of his life. But of course, he would know; no doubt they'd told him the story often enough.

"And you took it from her, and that's what caused this current regeneration?"

"Yes." He remembered the agony of that regeneration. The physical pain of his cells breaking down; the mental anguish of fearing that his regeneration would go wrong and Rose would hate him; the heartbreak of not having enough time to tell her what was going on, to reassure her.

"Every cell was breaking down, yeah? Mutating?" The Doctor nodded, and Alex nodded too. "That's the point, you see. It got into Mum's cells, too, when it was inside her. Mutated them. She's not a Time Lord—not quite—but if you saw her now, you'd swear she was still nineteen. We go out and people think she's my girlfriend or my sister."

The Doctor's eyes went round and he felt his hearts skip a beat. "Extended life span?" he breathed.

"Near as we can tell, yeah. At first we just thought that it was something to do with slowing the _effects_ of the aging process, but what it's actually done is slowed the aging process itself. In essence, she's not grown any older in all these years." He smiled. "And she passed that down to me—or you did. Once I was fully grown, my aging process pretty much stopped."

"Passed it—hang on," the Doctor said, blinking. He felt as though he was on a boat, being pummelled by fifty-foot waves. Every time he thought he got his balance, something else threw it off. Forget not asking questions; this was important. "You look twenty. How old are you?"

Alex grinned. "I'm two hundred now."

Two hundred. His son was _two hundred_.

His hearts pounded with elation as he realised what that meant. He could spend the next two hundred years—or more!—with Rose and their son. Here, in this universe, the universe he loved with the Earth he loved, because when they came—will come?—back through the Void after he rescues them, his clever, brilliant son will be able to turn off his Time Lord sense and never tweak the earlier Doctors—the Doctors that had been around since the destruction of Gallifrey, that is. Himself until today, and his ninth incarnation.

Rose's Doctors. It all cycled back to Rose. A Rose that he _could_ spend the rest of his life with—or at least a good portion of it. He wouldn't have to continue on alone, forever.

"You haven't said yet whether you're coming," Alex said carefully.

It was an artfully Time-Lord-ish thing to say and way of saying it: don't interfere with people's lives, don't try to influence their decisions. Present the facts and let them make up their own minds. The Doctor beamed. "Coming? Of course I'm coming! How can I not? With Rose, and you, and Pete, and Jackie, and—what did you say the baby's name was?"

"Charlie."

"Yes, and Charlie! I've got to save them, haven't I? Actually, if what you say is true, and if that picture you showed me is accurate, I've _already_ come back to save them, so if I don't go back now, I'll create one great, big, whopping paradox, and the whole of space/time will rip itself apart, starting right here with me and you, and we can't have that, because it just wouldn't be fair to all those lovely creatures out there who didn't do a thing to deserve being just snuffed out of existence. And what would happen to all the bananas, hey?"

"I knew you'd bring bananas into it somewhere." Alex sighed, his tone long-suffering, but his eyes twinkled as he met his father's gaze. His father grinned, then his grin faltered as a thought struck him.

"Hang on. What have I got to save them from?"

"Torchwood."

"Torchwood?" The Doctor goggled. "Again? Blimey, I hate that place."

"You've no idea," Alex said dryly. "Mum went to work for them after you and she got separated. Everything was fine at first, but then Mum realised she was starting to gain weight and craving strange foods. Gran told her she was pregnant—Gran was pregnant herself, with Uncle Charlie, at that point—but Mum wouldn't believe it. She hadn't had any boyfriends or anything since they'd arrived, and it had been nine months since they'd got there, five since you'd said goodbye. She thought there was no way she could possibly have been pregnant. But after awhile she went to see a doctor and find out what was going on, and they did an ultrasound, and—" He shrugged.

"And there you were," the Doctor said softly. So she hadn't lied to him on that beach. Somewhere in the back of his mind, since he'd met Alex, he'd been half-afraid that she had; that she'd slipped when she said 'baby,' and had back-pedalled so he didn't feel he was abandoning his child as well as his love. But no, that hadn't happened; she hadn't known she was pregnant. The relief was so strong, he actually felt the release of tension he hadn't known he was carrying.

"With two heartbeats," Alex confirmed. "They thought I was twins, at first."

And no reason she should have known; all she knew was that he was alien, not that he was part human, and she'd have no idea they'd able to procreate together. And after all, they'd not been lovers for very long.

It hadn't stopped him hoping when she'd mentioned a baby during their farewell, though. The hope had risen so high he'd nearly felt it burst out of him, only to be dashed on the rocks of her denial. She'd been disappointed as well; he'd seen it in her eyes. She'd wanted something of his, something that she could care for and cherish forever.

And now—

"So where does Torchwood come into all this?" he asked Alex.

"Mum didn't know until after her ultrasound that Torchwood was monitoring all her doctor's visits and the results. They called her in and asked her about the pregnancy. She made up some story about a one-night stand while she was on assignment in Majorca a couple months before, but none of them actually believed it. They began to follow her. Special monitoring equipment was set up at her station. They knew she'd been travelling with you, of course, and knew that you were an alien, though they didn't actually have much information on you beyond your help with the Cybermen. She got scared; she didn't know what to expect from a human/Gallifreyan pregnancy, didn't know how long it would last, didn't know anything about it."

"Nineteen months, on average, according to the texts," the Doctor said quietly, disturbed. She'd gone through all that with his child, and he'd not been there to help her. She was all alone.

"So Gran and Granddad liquidated a bunch of their assets secretly, and got her out of town. Out of country, actually, under assumed names. They headed for the Continent and set up house in the most remote place they could find—but a place as familiar as possible."

The Doctor sat up suddenly. "Bad Wolf Bay," he exclaimed.

"Exactly," Alex said with a grin. "There's a small house within walking distance of the bay; that's where they're staying."

"Then that's where we're going." The Doctor stood. "I take it we'll have to take both TARDISes? Since you'll need to find your way back to your own time?"

"Er… well, not exactly. I'm supposed to go with you on your TARDIS, and leave mine here. I'll be gone again before I'm born, never fear," he added hastily; "no worries about Reapers." He smiled. "The chameleon circuit's fixed, so I can have her look just like another hunk of rock to anyone who happens by. Which, be honest, they're not likely to do. Who comes to 4.4/Gamma/Mu and investigates a tiny black rock?"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. _Supposed to? Interesting way to phrase it_, he thought, but said only, "Then that's what we'll do. Let's go—sooner gone, sooner there." He bounded out of the kitchen, down the hall, and was in the control room before he stopped suddenly, nearly causing Alex to run into him. "Oh, no," he said with dawning realisation.

"What?" Alex asked.

"Martha. I forgot all about Martha."

* * *

Martha, it appeared, had hardly noticed the passage of time. She was curled up in one of the library's overstuffed chairs (the TARDIS had created them for her when it realised that she loved to curl up in them when she read), reading a book of Tvorkyk myths. She looked up with a grin when the Doctor came quietly inside. "These are fabulous," she said, gesturing to the book. "Who knew the Cinderella story was a cross-galactic theme?" He didn't answer, and she paused, looking at him more carefully, then set the book aside. "What is it, Doctor?"

He'd thought long and hard about what to tell her, and had decided on a mixture of truth and lie-by-omission. He drew up a padded wooden chair from one of the tables—one of _his_ preferred seats—and sat down across from her, leaning his elbows on his knees and taking her hand. "Martha," he said soberly, "d'you remember when you asked if I'd travelled with anyone before you?"

"Yeah," she said, brow furrowing slightly. "And you said many times, and you talked about a few of them."

"And you remember I told you that I don't get too involved with my companions," he went on.

"Yeah," she said again. "Nine-hundred-year-old Time Lord, human with at most an eighty- or ninety-year life span. Not fair to you."

He took a deep breath and squeezed her hand. "There was one companion," he said slowly. "Rose. I did—get involved—with her. I fell in love with her, and she with me, and we'd still be together except that she got pulled through the Void into a parallel universe. If my people were still alive, I could have gone straight to her and no harm done, but with just me, it was—impossible."

He could see dawning realisation and, as he'd feared, hurt in her gaze. He felt his hearts twist in sympathy. "I see," she said, drawing her hand away. "And now that you've got another Time Lord, you can go back to her. I understand." She stood, head high and shoulders back, apparently in complete possession of herself, but he knew better. "I'll just go pack, then, shall I?"

"No," the Doctor said firmly, also standing and taking her by the upper arms. Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes. He couldn't leave her like that. "I'm not abandoning you, Martha. I'm not just dumping you off somewhere so I can go back to my old flame. I need you to understand what's really going on." He paused, weighed his options, then said simply, "She's carrying my child."

Understanding and something else—was it joy? For him?—bloomed in her expression, taking the place of the pain. "Ah," she said, and there was a note of compassion in her voice this time. "That puts a different complexion on things. Of course you have to go to her, Doctor."

"But there's more." His hands squeezed her upper arms gently. "She's in danger from Torchwood—the Torchwood in her universe. They know she travelled with me, they know she's pregnant with an alien child, and there's nothing, and I do mean _nothing_, they won't do to get their hands on both her and the baby. I can't allow that. Alex and I—he's the other Time Lord I sensed—are going to work together to make a hole through the Void. We'll go in, get her and her family out, and come back to this universe." He paused, rubbing his thumbs over the point of her shoulders. "I'll take you home if you want," he said quietly. "I know it'll probably be uncomfortable, former companion and current companion together. But you've a quick mind and you're brave as whole armies; if you'd be willing to help, God knows I could use you."

She looked him in the eye for a long moment, so deeply that he wondered briefly if she had a spot of the psychic ability once called 'the Sight'; wondered if she could actually sense his thoughts. At last she nodded. "All right," she said. "It sounds like you'll need me, and no doubt she'll need all the help she can get. Yeah, I'll stick around. But…" She hesitated. "This'll be dangerous, won't it?"

"Possibly more dangerous than anything we've faced yet," he told her soberly.

She grinned."Then I'm definitely going, because who else is going to pull your arse out of the fire while you're protecting her?"

She hugged him, and he hugged her back, grateful for her understanding and her support. He loved Martha—not as he'd loved Rose, of course, but he loved her all the same—and it would be good to have someone he knew he could rely on during this trip. Not that he doubted Alex, but son or not, he was still an unknown quantity. Martha he knew and trusted, and that was worth more than diamonds.

"You know," she said as they separated, "we have a friend of the family who always told me he'd show me the stars. Flirt with anything on two legs, he would. He even told me that one day, given half a chance, he'd change my name to Martha Harkness, but I always knew it would never happen. He's hardly the type to settle down, that one." She paused, frowning; the Doctor had gone very still."What is it? Did I say something?"

It was another one of those huge waves, smacking him over the head and making his ears ring. "What—who—what was that name?" he managed, sure he looked just as shocked as he felt.

"Harkness. Jack Harkness. He was an American who worked for my Dad for awhile, before he moved to Cardiff to take up some position there. Bloody clever man."

The grin was spreading across his face again. He knew it, could feel it: a grin full of joy. Rose, his son, and Jack, all in the same day. He felt as if his chest might burst from happiness. "You know," he said, "I think we may just need to stop off in Cardiff before we go through the Void."

"Why?" she asked, bewildered. "Because of Jack? You don't even know him. Do you?"

"Oh, we're old friends," he said, remembering the game station. "I just hope he's as glad to see me as I will be to see him."


	3. Chapter 3

"You _left_ him there?" Martha said. Again.

"He was _dead_," the Doctor replied. Again. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, then sat back, slumped in his chair. "Martha, Jack had put himself in charge of the defences. If the Daleks had got through, it meant he had to have died, because there was no way he'd let them through while he was still living." Tears pricked his eyes; he blinked them away. "He yelled 'Last man standing!' and then—"

He looked down. Martha was silent. "I heard his last words. The Daleks were chanting, 'Exterminate!' and he just said, 'I kind of figured that.'"

Dammit, he wasn't ready for this, even now. A tear rolled down his cheek; he wiped it surreptitiously. "I was ready to die myself," he said soberly, "_really_ die, because Dalek weaponry bypasses the regeneration gene—and then, suddenly, there was the TARDIS, and there was Rose, and she'd taken the whole of the Time Vortex within herself. She'd opened up the heart of the TARDIS, and had looked inside." He squeezed his eyes shut. The memories he'd locked up for so long ran through his brain, showing on the backs of his eyelids like a cinema.

_What've you done?_

_I looked into the TARDIS. And the TARDIS looked into me. _

_You looked into the Time Vortex. No one's meant to see that!_

"It was going to kill her," he said quietly, almost to himself. "I knew it. I told her."

_You've got the entire vortex running through your head. You're gonna burn!_

"But she had no fear. Not one speck of fear in her eyes. She must have known what would happen—the Vortex itself would have told her—but she kept it within her anyway. She held onto it—"

_I want you safe. My Doctor. Protected from the false God_

"—destroyed the Daleks—"

_You are tiny. I can see the whole of time and space, every single atom of your existence, and I divide them._

"—I tried to get her to let go of it, tried to tell her it would destroy her, but she wouldn't release it."

_How can I let go of this? I bring life._

"She was in so much pain. It was burning her from the inside out. So I took the Vortex from her."

_Come here… I think you need a Doctor_.

The tears were spilling down his face now, and he was powerless to stop them. He had never been so terrified of anything, in all his 900 years, as he had been at that moment, watching his beautiful, brilliant, stubborn, and amazingly courageous Rose save his life—and the life of all humankind on Earth. But he couldn't let it destroy her. If it took one of his regenerations to save her, then so be it. It was worth it. It was more than worth it.

There was something soft against his fingers. He lifted his head to see what it was: Martha, pressing a hanky into his hand. He took it and wiped his eyes, blew his nose.

"Rose must somehow have brought Jack back to life while she had the Time Vortex inside her. But once I took it from her, I was dying; now it was my cells burning. And I had never had a chance to tell her about regeneration; I knew she'd be terrified once she woke up. So I got us into the TARDIS and took us into the Vortex, where we'd be reasonably safe while I—changed." He paused, fully aware of the horror Jack must have felt at what he, the Doctor, had done—what he'd been forced to do. He'd misled Martha: he knew Jack had been alive; had known it the minute Rose had brought him back. But in that same moment, the time-tracks had become clear to him, and one thing had been certain: if he'd taken Jack with them, he'd have doomed the Earth of 200,100 to utter anarchy and a good chance of oblivion. It was just one more entry in his list of regrets: things he'd had to do to keep the timeline moving properly. Sometimes, he thought with more than a little bitterness, being a Time Lord was the worst possible fate he could imagine.

"I know, Doctor," Martha said softly. "But you didn't do it intentionally. I believe you."

Though it was what he'd hoped she'd say, her trust was like ashes in his mouth. He rose abruptly, turning away and trailing his hand along the table behind him, unable to meet her eyes. "I don't know if he'll even see me, much less speak to me," he said. "In fact, he won't recognise me, now I think about it; he never saw me after I regenerated. Once I convince him I am who I say I am, he may very well toss us out on our ear." He glanced over at Martha, then managed a grin. "Well, he'll toss me; he may escort you."

She chuckled as well, rising from her chair and taking his hand. "Whatever he does, he'll have to do it to both of us," she said firmly. "I told you I'm sticking with you until you're back with Rose, and I meant it."

"Thanks." He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. "Come on, let me introduce you to m—to Alex."

Alex seemed very glad to meet Martha, and soon they were chatting like old friends. The Doctor set the TARDIS's coordinates to Cardiff, 2006, and retired into the back of the ship, leaving his son and his companion to their conversation. He needed some quiet for awhile; he needed to contemplate. To remember Jack and Rose in these halls, laughing and teasing each other.

Despite his ninth self's caustic sense of humour, he'd truly enjoyed having them both on board. It was good to hear the TARDIS echoing with voices, instead of the soul-deep silence he'd lived with between his regeneration after the fall of Gallifrey, and finding Rose in the basement of Henrik's. After she'd been pulled into the parallel universe—saved by Pete, really, because she'd have been sucked into the Void without him—and he'd sorted Bridezilla, the loneliness had been overwhelming. Finding Martha had been more than a relief: it had been necessary for his sanity. Silence in the TARDIS had been all well and good, until he'd destroyed his people and created the horrific silence in his mind as well.

The lonely god. The wanderer. The last of the Time Lords. So many titles that all meant only one thing: alone, forever.

But not anymore.

He roamed the hallways, not really picking a route, until he found himself in the wardrobe without really knowing how he'd got there. It was probably the TARDIS's fault, he reflected; she was more than slightly psychic, and she had a tendency, if he just let himself wander, to direct him to the place he most needed to be. He didn't know why she'd brought him here, until a flash of pink caught his eye, and his hearts skipped a beat.

Rose's favourite hoodie.

He took it down from its hanger and held it up to his nose, inhaling deeply. It still smelled of her, the scent of peppermint shampoo and freshly-washed skin. A desire to see her, to touch her, to hold her welled up in him so strongly that it was almost a physical ache. Why was he taking the time to persuade Jack to join them? Why didn't he just go straight to her?

_Because you know Jack can help protect her from Torchwood_, a voice in the back of his brain said. _You know that he can help make this mission a success. And you're not taking a single chance with this, because you know how easily the time-lines can be changed, and this is **not** a time-line you want to muck up._

He inhaled again, the scent flooding his brain. He remembered the last time he'd seen her wearing this. It had been the day before the fateful visit to her mum, the one that had led them to Torchwood and to the heart-breaking separation. The two of them had been bouncing around a planet that looked like the North American heartland well before settlers had arrived, but had only a third the gravity of Earth. He and Rose had raced through the knee-high grass and flowers with abandon, laughing at the sensation of running at only a third of their normal weight. She'd tripped and he'd turned back to make certain she was all right, and she'd laughed some more and dragged him down to the grass with her, pulling him atop her and letting him kiss her with all the love and joy that only ignorance of the future could bring.

_Stop it_, he told himself, and reached for the hanger, but something stopped him. He looked down at the hoodie again—so small; something that small shouldn't have been able to fit someone with all the energy and personality of Rose Tyler—and folded it neatly, taking it with him to his room. Perhaps he was being overly sentimental, but now that he didn't need to wall memories of her away any more, he wanted to remember everything. Needed to.

_Don't worry, Rose. We're coming to find you._

* * *

The block of flats where Jack lived wasn't far from where Blon Fel Fotch had said she'd lived as Margaret, when his ninth self had stopped her blowing up Cardiff with a poorly-built nuclear power plant. The flats were attractive and modern, and probably quite expensive. Not exactly what he'd expected Jack to live in—but then again, hedonist that Jack was, perhaps he should have done. The Doctor and Martha slipped into the building behind a young man with a key and stopped in the foyer. "Which flat is it?" the Doctor asked.

Martha consulted the paper she'd written it on. "Four-oh-two. Into the lift; I'm not climbing all those stairs, even for Jack."

"Oh, go on. It'd be good for you," the Doctor said as he followed her through the lift doors. "Healthy mind in a healthy body, and all that. The Greeks would approve."

Martha raised an eyebrow. "I think we get enough exercise running for our lives every time we land on a planet to keep even my slim, girlish figure."

"Well, if you're going to be _logical_ about it."

The lift stopped at the fourth floor and the two of them stepped out. A sign pointed them to the right for flats four-oh-one through four-ten. Obediently, they turned in that direction and started down the hall.

"Let me knock," Martha was saying. "If he's not seen you since your regeneration, he may not open the door."

"All right." He couldn't help being concerned about his reception, though. And really, who could blame Jack? He'd sacrificed himself for them, and they'd left him behind, the only living creature on the satellite. After all he'd done for them—all they'd done for each other—they'd just left him there.

Martha shot him a look. "Are you all right, Doctor?" she asked.

The Doctor flashed her a quick, false smile. "I'm always all right," he said with something much like his usual cheeriness. "Don't mind me. I'm just trying to work out how to duck a sonic blaster shot without harming any innocents in the process."

"Jack wouldn't risk shooting you in public unless you were a real danger to someone. Don't worry; no innocents will be harmed." Martha stopped in front of a door with the numbers 402. "Here we are then."

"No innocents, eh? Guess that means I'm for it after all," the Doctor murmured, and grinned again when she gave him another look. "Never mind me. Just knock."

Martha raised her hand to rap on the door, but before she could, it flew open to reveal Jack Harkness. "Martha!" he exclaimed, and grabbed her up in a hug that pulled her off her feet. She laughed and hugged him back, and even returned the peck on the lips he gave her. "Thought I heard your voice out here. I haven't seen you in years! What're you doing in Cardiff? Is your dad with you?"

"Not this time," she said as he put her down. "I'm here with a friend." She nodded to the side, where the Doctor stood, unnoticed.

Jack turned to look, and froze, his face a study in astonishment. "That's—you're—_Doctor_? What are you doing here?"

The Doctor's jaw dropped as Jack grabbed him into a bear hug, laughing with just as much delight as he had with Martha. "I—" he said, shocked at Jack's recognition. "I didn't—think you'd—How'd you know—?"

"Come in!" Jack said as he released the Time Lord. "Both of you! We've got so much to catch up on!" He grinned down into the Doctor's completely dumbfounded face. "Oh, c'mon, Doc," he said cheekily. "You don't think I could work for Torchwood all these months and not know what you look like now? Inside, inside."

The Doctor's head was spinning, and the beginnings of worry were settling in the pit of his stomach. Torchwood? Jack was working for Torchwood? Had he changed that much? And—worst of all—had the Doctor just put himself back in Torchwood's hands?

Would he be able to rescue Rose after all?

Martha slipped in past Jack first, heading for the lounge. The Doctor made to follow, but Jack stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Doc," he said quietly. "I know what happened on the game station. I know why you left, and you were right, though I didn't know it then. And even more—I know why you're here."

"You do?"

"There's only one possible reason." He looked straight into the Doctor's eyes. "It's gotta be about Rose. Right?"

"Yes." The Doctor looked into those familiar blue eyes, read the concern and hope there, and decided to accept Jack's knowledge of his new self and what had happened on Satellite Five—at least for now. He needed Jack too badly; he had to trust him. "I need your help."

"Tell me all about it," Jack said, shutting the door and following the Doctor back toward the lounge. He settled into a black leather chair, waving the Doctor and Martha to a matching sofa. "Don't leave anything out."

The Doctor's eyes flickered to Martha for the briefest of seconds before launching into the edited version of finding Alex and learning of Rose's pregnancy. He saw the answering gleam in Jack's eye; Jack realised there was something the Doctor wasn't willing to say in front of Martha, something that he'd explain later. It was almost as though Jack had never been absent from the TARDIS. They'd worked together like this before, when he'd been in his ninth incarnation. He and Jack and Rose—there had been a connection between them that transcended language.

"So you've got this other Time Lord, who just showed up out of the blue and offered to help you find Rose," Jack said soberly when the Doctor had finished, resting an ankle on the opposite knee and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You're sure he's on the up-and-up?"

"You can't manufacture the mental connection," the Doctor said just as soberly. "The Time Lord recognition is all but infallible." He couldn't blame Jack for the thought; it was a thought that had occurred to him, too, even in the midst of his delight at the knowledge that he and Rose had—would have—a child. What did Alex have that proved what he said was true, except a picture and some knowledge of the Doctor's past?

Nothing, except his looks—and the recognition sense that had drawn the Doctor to him in the first place.

"But is that the only thing that you have to prove that you can get Rose back?"

"No." The Doctor reached into his inner pocket and drew out the picture of himself and Rose. "He brought this."

Jack looked at it carefully, and the Doctor saw a muscle tighten in his jaw as he scanned it minutely. "No indication of tampering," he said, "but even in this day and age, it's easy to create fake pictures." He looked at the photo for another moment, then handed it back to the Doctor. "If it were down to this only, I'd tell you to turn around and walk away. But with him talking in your head—"

"There's no question he's a Time Lord," the Doctor said, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "Beyond that, I can't prove anything he's said."

"But you believe him." It wasn't a question. A slight quirk to his eyebrow told the Doctor that Jack had already worked out that this was the subject on which the Doctor had more to tell him later.

"I believe him," the Doctor affirmed.

Jack looked at him for another long moment, then the familiar grin spread across his features. "Then what're we waiting for?" he asked, standing up. "Let me pack a few things, and we'll be on our way. Ten minutes, max."

The Doctor felt his insides flop with relief. Martha, Jack, and Alex: yes, with the three of them and himself, they could make it through the Void, find Rose and her family, and get them somewhere safe. Torchwood or no Torchwood.

He just had to pray that Jack's loyalty to him and Rose outweighed his loyalty to his employers.

* * *

Alex had the coordinates of an enormous supernova on the opposite side of the galaxy from Earth. It was fitting, the Doctor thought: he'd caused a supernova to get enough power to say goodbye to Rose, and still managed to muck it up and never finish the most important sentence he'd ever said. Now he would use another supernova to go back to her. Very fitting indeed.

Jack and Martha were sitting on the bench in the control room, watching him and Alex. Jack had been keeping a very close eye on Alex since coming back on board the TARDIS. The Doctor had pulled him aside right after they'd got back to the ship and told him who Alex purported to be. Jack had said nothing; merely nodded, eyes narrowed, and had hardly let Alex out of his sight since. The Doctor wasn't sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he understood Jack's suspicion, and certainly was grateful for it; it meant that he, himself, was able to focus on finding Rose. On the other hand, if Alex truly was his son, it felt wrong to be so suspicious of him.

It was all too confusing, so the Doctor left it alone. He had enough to worry about right now. Let Jack handle Alex; it was what he was good at.

Martha's eyes were on Alex as well, though for a very different reason. The two of them had been nearly inseparable since Alex had joined them, and the Doctor could see the beginnings of sparks between them. There was definite attraction there. He tried not to feel put out. There was no reason to be.

Besides, he'd have Rose back soon. Very, very soon.

"Get her into orbit round the supernova, as close to the event horizon as you can without falling into the gravity well," he told Alex. Alex nodded and made a few adjustments to the controls. The TARDIS glided smoothly to her new coordinates, and the Doctor grinned. "Perfect. Now—have you ever done this before? Created a hole through the Void, I mean?"

"No," Alex admitted, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards in slight embarrassment. "That's a little advanced for me."

"True; you can't exactly go attend the Academy for the advanced courses, can you? All right, we'll see what kind of teacher I make. Come here."

Alex came round the console to his father and took his outstretched hand. The physical contact was enough to establish a full mental connection, and the Doctor closed his eyes. In a moment, he sensed Alex had done the same. With the deeper connection, he could feel everything Alex was feeling—the love for him, the worry for his mother, the nervousness over doing something this complicated for the first time.

_Don't worry, Alex. I've done this many times in my long and misspent life, never fear. Can you see the time line? See it stretching away like a great, golden rope?_

_Yes, _Alex said slowly, then with more certainty, _Yes. I see it, Dad._

_See the strands in the time line? Unravel them, just like a rope._

_How—?_

_Like this._ Swiftly, the Doctor demonstrated. Five or six timelines separated from the others, thin golden threads that were more shimmer than substance.

_I see,_ Alex said excitedly, and the Doctor felt him reach, saw the timeline slowly and somewhat clumsily separate itself into individual strands. It wasn't so clumsy as to cause any troubles to the beings living in those timelines, though, and was really quite good for a first try. He felt a surge of pride, and felt Alex's pleasure when he sensed it.

_Good, good,_ the Doctor said_. Just like that. Now, think about Rose. Think about your mother. Concentrate on her, pregnant. Got the picture in your head?_

_Yeah._ The image was there: Rose, laughing, one hand stroking the swell of her belly through her clothes. Her grin, tongue between her teeth. Her hair, gently framing her face.

_Excellent. Now, go farther. Smell her. Feel her. Sense her presence. Imagine she's in the room with you—no, don't imagine, **know** she's in the room with you._

The picture shifted from relying on just one sense to five, then to eight, then to sixteen. Flushed with pride, the Doctor took the awareness of Rose in his son's mind and modified it to make it his own. He could smell the peppermint of her hair, feel the warmth of her pressed against him in a hug, hear her voice gently teasing him, see the love in her eyes as she looked at him across the room—

_I've got it, Dad, _Alex told him.

_Good. Now, reach into the tendrils of time. Call to her. She'll answer._

Alex paused, then the Doctor felt him reaching out. He did as well, broadcasting his image of Rose into the time-tracks. _This is who we're looking for. Tell us where she is. Find her for us. _

There was no reaction for what could have been a few seconds or more than an hour; time in the real world was nothing like what he experienced when working with the timelines. At last, one tendril began to pulse, sending the others into relative dimness beside it. The Doctor felt his hearts begin to race with excitement. _There—there it is. Now we just reach out to it._

He and Alex stretched out their thoughts, grabbed onto the pulsing time line, and held it. It pulled them, and the TARDIS, along itself until it came to the place where it found what they were looking for—the image of Rose they had given it. There was a sudden, stomach-lurching plunge forward, as though they were diving straight toward the golden thread—

And then they were through.

The Doctor and Alex let go each other and sagged forward against the console, panting with effort. Martha and Jack were up immediately, Jack supporting the Doctor, Martha helping Alex, and got the two Time Lords to the bench so they could rest. "Are you all right?" Jack demanded of both of them.

"Fine," the Doctor wheezed, grinning despite his exhaustion. He looked at his son; Alex grinned back. "Brilliant. It worked. It was a little bit easier when I had five or a dozen Time Lords to help punch through, but it worked. We did it. We're here."

"We are?" Jack turned round, glanced at the monitor. "We're in the Vortex."

"Ah, but we're in the Vortex of the parallel universe. Looks a lot like our Vortex, but instead of being red and blue, it's blue and red. A subtle difference recognisable only to Time Lords. Not your fault you couldn't tell, really."

Alex laughed, Martha looked long-suffering, and Jack chuckled. "If there was ever an indication that you're back to your old self," he said.

"Oh, not that," the Doctor said with mock horror. "I won't be that again for—" He blew out a breath as though contemplating. "Well, never, really. And a good thing, too; the whole jumper-and-black-leather look got a bit old after a while, don't you think?"

"And pinstripe never goes out of style," Martha said in her driest voice.

"Exactly! Smart suit, subdued tie, you'll fit in pretty much anywhere. Well, perhaps not _anywhere_," he amended, "but it does give one an air of knowing what one's talking about, doesn't it?" Ignoring his fatigue and the amusement of the two humans, he bounced to his feet. He was too close to Rose to waste any more time. "Speaking of which, don't you think it's about time we found our way to Bad Wolf Bay?"

"I'll set the coordinates," Alex said, also rising. "I know where Gr—that is, where they're staying. I can put the TARDIS down in their front garden."

"Perfect!" the Doctor agreed. "Set the TARDIS down, spend a little time explaining and packing, and we can have the whole family on board by teatime."

"Assuming nothing goes wrong, nobody's chasing us, there are no aliens looking for a tasty snack, and Jackie decides to trust you enough to come on board," Jack pointed out.

The Doctor waved him off. "Details. We'll deal with the details when we get there." He looked at Alex, who'd set the controls and was waiting for him. "Ready?"

"Ready."

"Then let's go."

A roll of the wheel, a flip of a switch, and the TARDIS started her rematerialisation routine. The Doctor looked up, watching the glow of the TARDIS's engine, and tried his very best not to pace with impatience. He'd waited this long; he could wait another few moments.

_Nearly there, Rose. Hold on. We're nearly there._


	4. Chapter 4

"Rose?" Jackie said, sticking her head just in the door of her daughter's bedroom. "I've made tea. D'you want a cuppa?"

"No, thanks, Mum," Rose said dully. She lay on her back on her narrow bed, staring at the ceiling. The cabin Pete had found for them wasn't large, and they hadn't brought anything with them that wasn't strictly necessary as well as easily portable, so the walls were completely bare—just knotty pine planks. _Attractive in their way_,_ I suppose,_ Rose thought, _but still a prison—even if it's a prison designed to keep me safe. **Us** safe._

Her hands curved protectively over her slightly rounded belly, and Jackie tutted. "You've got to eat if you're going to keep the baby healthy," she said, coming to sit beside Rose on the bed and placing her hand over her daughter's.

"But how do we know if I am?" Rose asked, turning her head to look at her mother. "How do we know it's healthy? We don't know how long I've been pregnant, or how long I'm gonna be pregnant. I don't even know if I _can_ give birth to a Time Lord kid! And the only people in this universe who can help me are more interested in dissecting me." Tears were leaking out of her eyes. Again. She was so bloody tired of crying all the time. Jackie had assured her that this was normal, a result of pregnancy hormones, but she hated it. It made her feel weak, useless, and she wasn't used to feeling either of those sensations. At least, not since she'd joined the Doctor.

The thought of him made it worse, of course, as it always did, and she turned on her side and buried her face in the pillow. It had been a year since that horrible day at Torchwood when they'd been separated—a year almost to the day. It felt much, much longer.

"Oh, sweetheart," Jackie said with infinite sympathy, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be all right. We'll get it sorted. You're going to have a healthy, beautiful baby. I just know it."

Anger flared abruptly, and Rose sat up, dislodging her mum. "Yeah? Well, I don't! I don't know _anything_ anymore! I don't know where I am, I don't know what I'm doing here, I don't know this world, I don't know a _thing_! All I know is that my baby is going to be born not knowing her daddy, and of all the things in the _world_ that I could offer my child, that's the last thing I wanted!" She'd risen to her feet, the words pouring from her with no conscious control. "I never wanted my baby to have to grow up with a single mother, to always wonder about her dad, to never have him there to pick her up when she falls, and teach her to play football, and watch her at her dance recitals."

"Rose—" Jackie began.

"I don't even have a picture of him, Mum! How am I supposed to explain this to her? And what if she's got some of his Time Lord powers? How do I teach her about them? I don't even know what they are! How can I be a proper mother to a child who's not even completely human?"

The tears were pouring down her cheeks now, and Jackie stepped forward, enveloping her in her arms. Rose sobbed into her mum's shoulder, clutching her tightly. "I don't know the answers, Rose," Jackie said softly. "But you have an advantage that I didn't when I was raising you: you've got us. Me, and Dad, and Mickey, and Jake. We're all here for you, all of us. You don't have to face this alone, sweetheart. You'll never have to face this alone."

With a supreme act of self-control, Rose swallowed her tears and pulled away, scrabbling in her pocket for a tissue. As much as she'd been crying lately, she kept a stash of them nearby at all times. "I know, Mum," she said with an attempt at a weak smile. "And I appreciate it, I do. I think it's just—hormones, or something. I'm all weepy all the time."

"I understand, darling, and so does everyone else. It's all right." She touched her daughter's cheek affectionately, then started as a baby's wail echoed from the next room. "Oh! Is it that time already?" she exclaimed, looking at her watch. "It is; I've got to go feed Charlie. Are you going to be all right? I can send Mickey in, or—"

"No, s'all right," Rose said with a shake of her head. "I'll just go for a walk down the beach, yeah? Clear my head. It'll help."

"All right, but don't be long. We'll have tea in a couple hours. And don't go too far."

"I won't," Rose said. "You go on, Mum. Take care of Charlie."

Jackie left, and Rose paused, taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes. She had to be stronger than this. She had to be strong for the baby. It was true that she wasn't completely alone, but it was also true that she was the only one of them who'd spent any significant amount of time with the Doctor. None of them really understood how different he was. He was quite good at playing human when he was around her family, but the fact of the matter was, he wasn't human; he was so much more. _I can feel the turning of the earth_, he'd told her once, not long after they'd first met. _The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. And I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me. Clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go..._

How could she explain that to a child? How could she comfort it, when it felt the spin and fall and cried in fear?

She'd have to work out a way, because, despite her family and how much they loved her, there was no one else.

She took deep breaths until she felt she was able to project a calm face, and then walked out into the lounge. She heard Jackie's voice speaking soothingly from their bedroom, probably nursing three-month-old Charlie in the rocker that Pete had bought when they'd first got here. There was one in Rose's room, too, for when her baby arrived—whenever that was. Shaking her head to clear it, she plucked her denim jacket from the coat tree and slipped out the door.

Mickey and Jake were working on the truck they'd bought a few days before. They glanced up at her, and Mickey's brows drew together. "Where d'you think you're goin', then?" he said sharply. Jake dug an elbow into his ribs, but he didn't back down; Mickey had been almost more protective of her this past year than Pete had.

"Jus' down the beach," Rose said, slipping the jacket on. It was tight around her waist—she still didn't show much; it looked more like she'd just put on a few pounds—but fit her shoulders and arms just fine. "I fancy a walk. 'S a bit stuffy in there."

Mickey put his ratchet down and reached for his own coat. "I'll come with ya," he said. It was clearly a statement, not an offer.

"No," Rose said firmly. "I'm goin' on my own. I just want to be alone for awhile, Mickey. There's too many people here; I can't think properly."

"What's there to think about?"

"Mick," Jake said warningly. "Just let her go, mate. She's not gonna run off and get herself killed."

Mickey opened his mouth to argue, but looked into Rose's face, and the set of her expression apparently convinced him. "All right," he said gruffly. "But mind the weather. There's a storm comin' in, an' you don't wanna be caught out in it."

"Yeah, all right, Dad," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "And I won't talk to strangers, either." She set off down the trail toward the beach.

"You better not!" Mickey called after her, then said sharply, "Ow!" Rose smirked; she could only assume Jake had elbowed him again. Sticking her hands in her jacket pockets, she broke into a jog down the shallow hill towards the bay, anxious to get out of sight of her rather overprotective family.

The sight of the open, empty beach made her a little melancholy, as usual. This was where she'd said her final goodbye to the Doctor—where she'd told him at last that she loved him, and he'd tried to tell her the same but had run out of time. _What's he doing now?_ she thought, as she always did and likely always would. The wind caught her hair, whipping it into her eyes. She tucked the loose strands behind her ear. _Has he found someone else to travel with?_

She wanted to hope he had. She really did. But the truth was, she couldn't bear the thought of him travelling with someone else, wandering the Universe with a companion who wasn't her. She didn't want to condemn him to be alone forever, of course, but her heart squeezed painfully whenever she thought of him with another companion.

Tears welled up again, and she fought them down impatiently. This was ridiculous. She had to get herself under control somehow. She turned her back on the place where they'd said goodbye and started walking in the other direction, heading north along the ocean. If she walked long enough, maybe she could outwalk her emotions, changeable as the weather and even less predictable.

Rolling in from the west, the dark clouds gathered.

* * *

The pulse of the time rotor had hardly faded before the Doctor was bolting for the door. Jack leapt for him and dragged him back by a sleeve. "Doc, wait!" he said urgently. "You don't know what's out there."

"_Rose_ is out there," the Doctor all but snapped. He was so close, it felt as though he could reach out and touch her.

"Yeah, and what else? Torchwood? Something worse?" Jack pulled his blaster with his free hand. "Let me check it out first, all right?"

"But—"

"You won't do Rose a damn bit of good if Torchwood gets ahold of you before you can find her."

Jack was right. Reluctantly, the Doctor took a half-step backward, letting Jack precede him. The former Time Agent slipped past him and to the door, stopping just before he opened it. "If I shut this door," he said firmly to the whole lot of them, "then get out of here."

"Not without you, we don't," the Doctor said just as firmly. "I left you once; I won't do it again."

"Doctor, if this door shuts behind me, it will probably be the last thing I ever do."

"Then we'll recover your body," the Doctor said. "Somehow. I'm not leaving you behind, Jack." He turned to look at Alex and Martha. "I'm not leaving anyone behind. And I am not leaving this world without Rose. We all make it out, full stop." He swung back to face Jack. "So check things out, Captain Harkness. I've a pregnant mother to rescue."

Jack flashed a grin at him. "Right you are, Doc," he said. "Everyone, get up against a wall out of the way of any stray shots. I don't want one sneaking in around me." Without pausing to see if they'd done as he said, Jack opened the door carefully, stuck his head out to look around, then slipped outside, leaving it cracked. There was a moment's pause, then he came back in. "All clear. Let's go."

The Doctor was moving even before he'd finished speaking, out the door right on Jack's heels. They'd landed in a clearing surrounded by large black rocks interspersed with patches of green. To the left was a clear view of the beach and the ocean; to the right and ahead about a hundred feet was a small wooden dwelling. Two vehicles were parked out front, one reasonably new, the other clearly in process of being repaired: the bonnet was up, as though someone had been interrupted in the midst of their work. The Doctor and Jack hesitated for a moment, taking their bearings.

"That's it," Alex said, coming out the doors behind them. Martha was with him. "That's the house they're in."

Jack turned to look at him. His blaster was still in hand and at the ready, though he had it pointed at the ground. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Then I'm going," the Doctor said shortly. He started forward, but before he got more than a couple of steps, the door flew open and Mickey stepped out, holding an enormous weapon to his shoulder, his eye in the sight. The Doctor skidded to a halt, holding his hands up.

"You'd better identify yourself properly before you take another step," Mickey said menacingly. Jake came through the door as well, another weapon trained on Jack, who'd pointed his sonic blaster. "And put the gun down."

"You first," Jack snapped, but the Doctor waved a hand, shushing him and indicating he should do as Mickey said, all in the same gesture. Frustrated, Jack lowered his weapon, but neither Mickey nor Jake did the same.

"I offered to take you with us after the incident with the Slitheen, before I regenerated," the Doctor said to Mickey, as calmly as he could. "You said you couldn't deal with the kind of life I lead, and asked me not to tell Rose you'd said so. When she invited you along, I lied and said I wouldn't have you; said you were a liability."

The gun lowered slowly, and Mickey stared at him, jaw slightly open in shock. The Doctor let his hands fall to his sides, but didn't move. Nobody did for a long moment. Then, softly, Mickey said, "Doctor—?"

The Doctor let a smile twist a corner of his mouth. "Yes," he said. "I found a way through. I'm back." He made a point of looking around. "Where's Rose?"

A small blonde streak came flying out of the house, and a surge of hope passed over him before he heard her voice say, "Doctor!" The hope crashed back to earth when he realised it was Jackie just as she hurtled into him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, you're here!" Jackie said tearfully. "Oh, thank God. You don't know—it's been so hard, poor Rose has been so upset—"

"I know," he said quietly. Pete had come out of the house and was standing beside Mickey, his face inscrutable. The Doctor carefully extricated himself from Jackie's embrace and stepped back a pace, his hands on her shoulders. "I know, and I'm sorry. How long has it been for you?"

"A year, since we came through," Pete said before Jackie could. "Almost exactly." He paused, glancing at his wife before adding, "Doctor, there's something you should know before you see Rose."

The Doctor held up his hands to stop him. "She's pregnant," he said. "I know. And Torchwood is after her, so you lot came out here to try to escape them. But it won't work for very long; they've got ways and ways of finding anything they're looking for, especially something as fascinating as an alien child. I've come to take all of you away—take you back to the other universe, where Torchwood doesn't know anything about you, and let you start over again."

There was a moment's stunned silence as all four of them stared at the Doctor. "Go back?" Mickey said at last.

"Yes, and we haven't much time. I don't know precisely when Torchwood will get here, but it's a good bet it'll be reasonably soon. How long have you been here, in this house?"

"Four days," Pete said, frowning. "But it's almost a month since we left. We took a roundabout route, trying to throw them off."

"That won't work for very long," Jack said. "They could be here any time. In fact—four days, I'm surprised they're not here yet. The only reason they might be holding off is if they're bringing in reinforcements." Jack was definitely worried now; his blue eyes were hooded, his hand tightening on the grip of his blaster. "I think it's safe to say they want you, and they want you _bad_. We've got to get you out of here."

"I agree," the Doctor said rather impatiently, "and so once again, I ask: _where's Rose?_"

"She said she was doing down for a walk on the beach a couple of hours ago," Mickey said, "but she's never been gone this long before. The tide's not coming in yet, but that storm is."

He nodded toward the west, and the Doctor turned to see the dark-grey, almost black clouds rolling in off the water. Lightning flashed in the midst of them. The wind was picking up, too, and it was more than just chilly; it was downright cold. "She can't be out in that," the Doctor said, worry beginning to creep through him.

"We were just organising to go look for her," Pete told him.

"I'll go," the Doctor said, turning back to them.

"Dunno which way she went," Mickey said. "There's a lot of beach out there, Doctor. We'd better come with you, so we can split up and search."

The Doctor shook his head. "You'll slow me down. Trust me, I can find her. You lot get your clothes and things packed, and get in the TARDIS. I'll be back soon."

He took off toward the beach without waiting for an answer. Behind him, he heard Jack trying to get the others organised, heading off Mickey from trying to follow him. He didn't care; his whole attention was focused on Rose. The connection would be weakened after so long without her—it had been just over a year for him as well, after all—but he knew it would still be there. Concentrating on her, he reached his awareness out in an ever-increasing circle, searching for the familiar blend of colours and textures that was indubitably _Rose_.

_There_. North, and farther than he'd expected. Definitely Rose, along with a second, faint shimmer that he could only imagine would be the baby. Relief sparkled through him briefly, until he realised there was a filter overlying and partly obscuring the two of them. A familiar filter—pain, mixed with worry.

The Doctor began to run, ignoring the thunder that boomed above him and the way the heavens decided to open suddenly, dropping buckets of water down on the beach. He wanted to project reassurance toward her, to let her know he was on his way, but he didn't know if it was getting through; the link was so weak now. Before she'd been pulled away from him, when they had been companions and lovers, the link had been thick and crystal-clear, so strong they'd actually been able to exchange thoughts in their more intimate moments—an uncommon occurrence even between Time Lords, and almost unheard-of with other species. Now it was attenuated, like salt-water taffy pulled too far: thin, fragile.

Already he was thoroughly drenched. His feet squished in his trainers, and cold water dripped down his neck and underneath his coat. He ignored it. There were footprints in the damp sand now, though they were starting to melt away under the deluge of water. Familiar footprints: Rassilon knew he'd helped create enough of them with her, running hand-in-hand for their lives. Encouraged, he pressed on.

At last he rounded a projection and saw a figure perched on a good-sized rock ahead of him: blonde, jean-jacketed, just as soaked as he was. Her arms were crossed over her chest, head bowed against the rain, one foot propped up on another rock. The relief that had shimmered so briefly through him earlier flared up again, and he put on a burst of speed. "Rose!" he yelled through the torrential downpour. "Rose! It's me!"

Her head jerked up, and he could see her face shift through all the emotions he could feel pouring off her: shock, disbelief, hope, and finally, as he came closer, elation. "Doctor?" she managed. "Oh, God—_Doctor_?"

Hearts brimming with joy, he threw his arms around her, picked her up, and spun her around, clutching her to him as hard as he could and pressing his cheek to hers. With the physical contact, the link between them quivered, then burst fully open like a window thrown open to the sunshine. "Rose," he murmured into her ear. "Missed you—missed you so much—"

"Can't believe it," she whispered, and there was a wash of amazement, the purple of a desert sunset, over and through the link. He could feel her tears, warm and wet, against the side of his neck. "Thought I'd never see you again—thought you couldn't ever get through—missed you, missed you—"

He set her down so he could frame her face with his hands and do what he'd longed to for so long: brought his face down to hers and kissed her deeply, possessively. She clung to him, letting herself go pliable against his body. He slid one hand down to wrap round her waist, pulling her closer, and felt the hard roundness of her belly pressing against him. She shifted, and through the link he felt a sudden orange flash of pain that caused him to pull away, shocked. "What's wrong?"

She winced, flexing her right ankle. "Sprained my ankle, I think. Slipped on some seaweed. I was resting it, hoping I could get the swelling to go down so I could walk back to the house."

"You're not walking anywhere." The Doctor pulled off his coat and helped her into it. "You're already chilled, and I'm getting you back to the TARDIS as soon as I can."

"What about you?" she asked as he buttoned the coat. "You're just as soaked."

"Faster metabolism. I'm not cold." He finished fastening the coat and looked at her sharply. "You are."

"'M fine."

"You're shivering, and your core temperature has dropped nearly a whole degree. I'm not risking you getting hypothermia." Without warning, he wrapped an arm behind her back and slid his other behind her knees, sweeping her up into his arms. She squealed in surprise, clutching at him.

"You can't possibly carry me all that way!"

He grinned at her, starting off back down the beach. "I most certainly can. Time Lords aren't only impressive mentally, you know. We can do all sorts of impossible things."

She chuckled. "Don't I just know it," she purred.

He turned to kiss her forehead, letting his love pulse through the bond between them. Hers pulsed back, streaks of reds and pinks and blues in the sunshine-yellow. He'd nearly given up on ever experiencing this completeness again; even the presence of Alex in the back of his mind couldn't begin to replicate the sensation of having his lover with him again, body and mind and soul. In all his years, and with all his loves, he'd never had a lover whose mind meshed as well with his as Rose.

And he'd almost lost her forever. His arms tightened slightly, and he felt her wordless surge of reassurance through the link. Even if he didn't know she'd have the extended life span the Time Vortex had given her, even if he truly thought she'd never live past a human's normal life span, there was no way he could give her up again. He needed her too badly.

"There's the path," she said, pointing to the left, and he turned obediently to climb the slight incline toward the house and the TARDIS. He felt her joy when she saw the familiar blue police box. "Home," she said happily.

"Doctor! Rose! Thank God." Jack was running toward them, his expression filled with concern. "The TARDIS is picking up signals coming in from the main road east of us. There's a whole convoy of vehicles on their way, and they're carrying an awful lot of alien tech."

The Doctor quickened his pace, and Rose's arms tightened about him, holding on. "How far are they?"

"They'll be here any moment. We've got to get out of here. Now."

Jack reached the TARDIS just before them and opened the door. The Doctor turned sideways so he could slip in without releasing Rose and carried her up to the console. "Is everyone on?" he demanded, ignoring the way the two of them dripped.

"Pete and Jackie are in their bedroom with Charlie; the TARDIS created a little crib for him," Martha said, standing next to Alex. They were damp as well; they must have helped the others bring their things on board. "And Jake and Mickey are checking the weapons stores."

"Good. Alex, take us into the Vortex." Alex nodded, bending to the controls. "Jack," the Doctor continued, "you stay in here with him and watch the monitor, make sure we can get away clean. I'm going to get Rose settled and change my clothes, and then I'll be back." He was already heading for the corridor as he spoke.

"I'll be back in here, too," Rose said firmly, still in his arms. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"Dematerialisation sequence initiated," Alex announced, stepping back from the console. The familiar pulsing of the time rotor filled their ears.

"Doctor," Jack said, his voice a warning. Frowning, the Doctor stopped and swung back to face the console. Jack was leaning forward, eyes on the monitor. "Torchwood's arrived. They've got us surrounded, and they're powering up their weapons."

"Human weapons or alien?" Rose asked before the Doctor could. He felt a surge of pride.

Jack shook his head, eyes still on the monitor. "Hard to tell, but whatever they are, they've reached maximum power and are readying to fire."

"We're nearly through the demateralisation sequence," the Doctor said, stepping forward. "If we can just hold out another—"

The TARDIS shook violently, nearly causing him to drop Rose. As it was, he staggered into one of the support pillars; Rose had to grab onto it to keep them from falling. "What was that?" Rose yelped.

Jack lifted a worried face. "We're hit."


	5. Chapter 5

"What do you mean, we're hit?" Rose asked, her fear flashing orange-red through the link as the Doctor set her carefully down on the jumpseat so he could join Alex and Jack at the console. She clung to the seat, her injured foot kept well off the grating, as the TARDIS lurched again, sending Martha to the ground. Alex bent to help her up. "What hit us?"

"Some sort of energy bolt." Jack looked at the Doctor, who braced his feet, shoved his specs on, and began flipping switches, watching the monitor with a set expression on his face. "I didn't think the TARDIS could be injured by weapons, Doc."

Another lurch, though everyone stayed on their feet this time. "Oh, she can," the Doctor said. "But it takes more than I would ever have imagined Torchwood could have access to." His connection with the TARDIS wasn't the same type of mental bond as what he shared with Rose, but it did give him enough of an idea of what was going on. If he could just get her steadied—he adjusted a few more controls, and felt the TARDIS's fear subsiding. He stroked her reassuringly, listening to her detailing her injuries. Not so bad, really: the TARDIS equivalent of a flesh wound. He blew out a relieved breath, feeling his shoulders relax as the lights in the control room flickered briefly. "It's all right. We're safe in the Vortex now, so she's going to power down all unnecessary functions preparatory to repair. That means all the unoccupied bedrooms and some of the lesser-used places like the pool and the workout room—"

"There's a pool?" Martha asked incredulously.

"We're losing the workout room?" Jack complained.

"—will be temporarily gone." He turned to his son. "Alex, you know where Jackie and Pete's room is. Let them know what's happening, and that there's no need to worry. You're a Time Lord; they'll listen to you. Well," he added dryly, "at least Pete will. Then see if you can find Mickey and Jake, and tell them the same."

"You're sure there's no need to worry?" Martha asked. There was an odd note to her voice, and the Doctor glanced over; her eyes were wide, her shoulders rigid. She'd never known the TARDIS to be anything but safe; clearly, this vulnerability frightened her. Alex moved closer to her and rested a hand on her shoulder, reassuringly.

The Doctor softened his voice. "She's not dead, nor dying, Martha," he told her. "She's damaged, yes, and she'll need us to help her heal, but we can do it. We've got two Time Lords and a former Time Agent here; we've all worked on TARDISes before, and we all know what we're doing. Don't worry; it'll be all right." He looked at Rose, who was beginning to shiver. "Meantime, since you know nearly as much first-aid as I do, could you help Rose to the infirmary? Get her some dry clothes and wrap her ankle. It's just a sprain, but I can't take the time to fix it just now."

A shower of sparks from the console punctuated his words and caused him and Jack to jerk backward. It wasn't anything mechanically wrong; just the TARDIS pulling his attention back to her. She needed him right now. He stroked her console. "Yes, yes, I'm still here," he said soothingly.

"I'm not leaving you," Rose protested, though her teeth were beginning to chatter. Wet as she was, it couldn't have been warmer in here than it had been out in the storm. "Besides, you need to change as well."

"I told you, different metabolism. I'll be fine for another few minutes while we get the TARDIS through her shutdown phase, make sure she's set, and then I'll come join you if I can." He dragged his attention away from the console long enough to look at her again. "You'll do nobody any good if you make yourself ill. Besides," he added more softly, knowing it would be the argument that truly swayed her, "there's the baby to consider."

Rose growled and rolled her eyes. "You would use that. All right." She hopped off the captain's chair, and suffered Martha to hook an arm round her waist, helping support her injured side. "But I'll be back in here, just see if I'm not," she called over her shoulder as they hobbled down the hallway. Alex followed, on his way to Pete and Jackie's room.

The Doctor blew out a breath and turned his attention back to his ship, though he could feel Jack's eyes on him as he continued working, helping the TARDIS with her shutdown. "Okay, Doc, you've cleared the room," the former Time Agent said bluntly. "How bad is it?"

"Not much worse than I made it sound, honestly," the Doctor said without looking up. "The TARDIS will be a lot smaller than we're used to for awhile, but not uncomfortable, and you, Alex, and I should be able to jury-rig her systems well enough to get her to a planet where we can buy proper parts to repair her. We've plenty of food and water, and she's not going to let us run out of oxygen, so all in all, we'll be just fine."

"Uh-huh." Jack leaned his left hip against the console railing and gave him a hard look, arms folded over his chest. "So what's the bad news?"

The Doctor paused in the middle of reaching for another lever, then sighed, slowly lowered his hand, and turned to face Jack fully. He didn't know why he was so loathe to say it; staying silent wouldn't change anything. "We can do a certain amount to help her," he said soberly, running a hand through his wet hair and causing it to stand on end, "but a good part of this is going to have to be the TARDIS healing herself, and I don't know how long it'll take. Neither does she. We could be stuck in the Vortex for a day, a week, a month—or more."

"And you think Rose might have some sort of trouble with her pregnancy?"

He shook his head, sending water droplets flying. "That's not the worry. Think, Jack. Imagine we're here long enough that Rose goes into labour. If she's carrying Alex right now, and she gives birth while he's still on board, and he touches the baby at any time—"

Understanding lit Jack's eyes. "The universe tears itself apart."

"Precisely." His gaze fell away from Jack's, looking down at the console for lack of anything better to look at. He'd never forgotten the time Rose had taken hold of her baby self in that church in 1987; though he'd been taken by the Reapers himself, once he'd been restored, he was able to see once again all the possible timelines, all the things that could have—and had—happened.

That night had been the first time they'd slept together—just sleeping, of course; his ninth self had held her while she cried herself out, then let her stay in his arms once she'd drifted off, soothing away the nightmares as best he could. It was the first time he'd admitted to himself that the Dalek had been right: she was the woman he loved.

"Are you going to tell Rose who Alex is?" Jack asked softly.

"No," the Doctor said, looking up at him again. "Not unless I have no choice. It's never good to tell people things about their future; the time lines get all knotted. Even me; I'm sure Alex would never have come back if there were any other way." He sighed again, then pushed himself away from the console and knelt, taking off one of the cover plates to her base. "We'd best get done what we can do here; the faster we get her patched up, the faster she can start to heal on her own." He peeled off his sopping-wet suit jacket and tossed it aside, then unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled them up to his elbows.

"You know, we could wait ten minutes while you go change, Doc."

"No, Jack," the Doctor said, shifting to lie on his back so he could see up under the console and wiping a stray drop of water from his glasses. "I'm not entirely sure we can."

* * *

"Clothes or ankle first?" Martha asked as they entered the infirmary. Her own clothes were damp and her shoulders hurt from Rose leaning on her, but she wouldn't have complained for the world; it was clear that the ankle was definitely sprained and swollen. There was no way she could have walked on her own.

"Oh, clothes, please," Rose said as she pulled herself gingerly onto an examination table. "Not sure where my mum and dad are, but I'm sure they packed my things."

"No doubt." Martha reached up and pulled a curtain to block Rose from sight of the doorway, then reached into a cupboard and pulled out a blanket and a towel. "Here, get out of those wet things, dry off, and wrap up in this. I'll go fetch some clothes for you."

"Thanks." Rose paused, and Martha waited, but she closed her mouth again and smiled, shaking her head. "Never mind. I'll just get dried off."

Martha thought about insisting—she thought she had a pretty good idea what Rose was going to say, or ask—but as Rose was still shivering, she said only, "All right, I'll be back directly," and slipped around the curtain, heading down the hall to Pete and Jackie's room. This wasn't the sort of thing that could be pushed, after all.

Alex was still there, trying to explain about the TARDIS as Jackie pinned him to the metaphoric wall with questions. Martha felt a surge of compassion for him; 200-year-old Time Lord he might be—at least, that was what he had told her—but Jackie Tyler was clearly a match for him. She sidestepped Jackie neatly and got Pete to give her one of the bags packed with Rose's clothes. With a passing sympathetic squeeze of Alex's hand (he gave her a somewhat desperate one back), she headed back down the much-shorter hallways to the infirmary again. "Rose?" she asked politely.

"Yeah, c'mon in."

Martha ducked around the curtain and saw Rose, wrapped securely in the blanket. She'd pulled herself back up on the table and was sitting cross-legged, the blanket wrapped around herself like a cocoon, her hair done up in a towel turban. She was still shivering a little. "I can't seem to get warm," she said, teeth not quite chattering.

"You might have got close to hypothermia. Here, get yourself dressed." She set the bag down next to Rose. "You tell me what you want pulled out; stay wrapped up as long as you can."

"I don't care," Rose said, a little wearily, as she rubbed her face with both hands. "Knickers, jeans, bra, sweatshirt. If my winter coat's in there, that'd be brilliant."

Martha unzipped the bag and dug through, pulling out articles of clothing. "No coat, but we can likely find one in the wardrobe, if it's still open. Yours may still be there, in fact. Oh—and here are socks and a pair of trainers." She set them next to the clothing and pulled the bag away, only then seeing the frown on Rose's face as the blonde looked at her, head cocked to one side and brow furrowing. Martha set the bag aside and turned to her, waiting. When she'd first learned that they were going to get Rose, she'd known this conversation would have to happen, and she'd decided then that she would be completely open. No secrets—not that there were any to keep. Not that she wanted any.

After a moment, Rose said haltingly, "You've—been travelling with the Doctor, right?"

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"About a year." Martha hesitated, then plunged ahead. "You do know that there's nothing—going on. Between us, I mean. The Doctor and me."

"Oh," Rose said, clearly startled. "Erm—yeah. Yeah, of course. Of course I knew." Her eyes flickered away uncomfortably, and she slid off the table and turned away modestly, reaching for her knickers and sliding them on with the blanket still wrapped over her shoulders.

"And there never would have been," Martha went on firmly. "Even if there hadn't been you, I don't think I could ever have been interested in the Doctor that way."

"Why not?" Rose demanded over her shoulder. A strange look passed over her face as she apparently realised what she sounded like, and she looked away and muttered, "Sorry," as she reached for her bra. She turned around again, let the blanket fall, and quickly fastened the bra before reaching for her jeans.

Martha let a corner of her mouth twist upward in a half-smile. "No, it's all right." She folded her arms and leaned her hip against the table. "It's not that there's anything bad about the Doctor, because there's not. It's just—he's always _talking_, and half the time he talks complete nonsense. And while it's amusing, it's not particularly attractive. In _that_ way, I mean." She paused, then added, "And besides, he's been in love with you, and desperately searching for a way back to you, since I met him."

Rose stopped in the middle of fastening her jeans and swung around to meet Martha's gaze, balancing with a hand on the table to keep her sore ankle from touching the ground. The slight curve of her belly was noticeable now; slender as she was elsewhere, it was a clear sign of early pregnancy, very different from someone just gaining a few pounds. How pregnant was she? Martha wondered. How much time had passed for her since they'd been separated? The Doctor had never said. "Really?" she asked, her eyes lighting up.

"Really. The moment he learned he could get back, nothing could stop him. He asked me along to help make sure you were all right. I think he thought another woman on board might be helpful—someone you could relate to." Again she paused; this was where things got a little tricky. "But, you know," she added, trying to be nonchalant, "if you'd rather I just stayed out of your way—"

"No," Rose said quickly, shaking her head. She finished fastening her trousers, tossed aside the towel that had been around her hair, slid her sweatshirt on, and pulled herself back up onto the table. Martha handed her a hairbrush, and she began combing out the damp strands. "No, I don't want that at all. And I'm not jealous. Well, not much," she added with a self-deprecating grin that Martha returned. "I've met another companion of his—well, former companion—and if there's anything I learned about him while we were travelling, it's that he loves everyone and everything. There's nobody he wouldn't try to save, nobody he wouldn't try to help. There's more than enough love there to go round. He loves you, I'm sure, even if it's not the same way he loves me, and that's all right. Really, it is." She flipped her combed hair behind her, then reached out and put a hand on Martha's shoulder. "I don't want you to go anywhere unless and until you want to leave, and I mean that, okay?"

Tension Martha hadn't realised she was carrying leached out of her muscles, and she relaxed, letting a true smile spread across her features. "Okay." She turned and opened a cupboard, pulling out a long bandage and a couple of fasteners. "I used to bang myself up all the time, so I know a bit about wrapping sprained ankles. Ooh, that's a lovely one, that is," she said as Rose lifted her swollen, bruising foot up onto the table, shifting backwards so her calf was propped against the edge. "Must've been a job getting your shoe off, with that swelling."

"Hurt like hell," Rose agreed, wincing as Martha probed the ankle gently. "Still does."

"Not surprised. Well, you'll not be wanting to put any weight on that until the Doctor's able to get to it with the dermal regenerator. It's not something I can operate. So whilst he's busy, we'll do this the old-fashioned way." Deftly, she wrapped Rose's ankle and secured the bandage. "That'll help keep it from being any worse injured. We'll get you some crutches—there must be something in here we can use." She turned away and opened a tall cupboard on the far wall, sorting through the assorted detritus in there before spying a pair of forearm crutches, apparently in good repair. "Aha!" she exclaimed, and pulled them free, turning round. "You can use one of them or both, but if you use only one, you'll have to put some weight on your foot, and I wouldn't advise it."

"I'll use both, if it'll get me round faster. Besides," Rose added mischievously as Martha handed them over and she threaded her hands through the forearm cuffs, grabbing hold of the handles, "if I come limping in there on crutches, maybe the Doctor will want to come fix my ankle, and I can finally get 'im out of those wet clothes, yeah?"

Martha laughed. "It's worth a try," she said, pulling the curtain away from the door so Rose could go through. They turned left, heading down the hall toward the control room. "Did he go round the universe tasting everything when he was with you?"

"Oh, God, yes," Rose groaned. "One time, we were in some woman's house, and he stuck his fingers into a jar of marmalade and shoved 'em into his mouth! Right in front of her!"

"You're joking!" Martha gasped, startled though she shouldn't have been. She'd seen the Doctor do enough strange things that she shouldn't be surprised by anything anymore.

"No, I swear, it's true. And then there was the time we met Queen Victoria…."

They entered the control room giggling at the image of the Doctor licking a library wall, to find both the Doctor and Jack on their backs beneath the console, surrounded by hanging wires. At the sound of their voices, the Doctor pushed the wires aside and raised his head, staring at them. "Oh, come on," he said, wounded. "Will I ever have two companions meet without laughing at me?"

"No," Martha and Rose said together, and burst into giggles again. Even Jack smirked. Still offended, the Doctor huffed and went back to work

* * *

Three hours later, a much warmer Rose sat in the captain's chair, her crutches propped nearby. Jack, the Doctor, and Alex were still fiddling with the TARDIS; Jack had actually removed one of the plates of floor grating and slipped down into the space below, calling information out to the other two. As Rose didn't know anything about TARDIS repair and really didn't care to, she was utterly bored. Pete and Jackie were in their room with Charlie; Mickey and Jake had brought a bottle of scotch with them from the cabin and had gone to Mickey's room to play a game of poker. Even Martha had wandered away some time before, but Rose had refused; she wasn't going to be shunted off into the back of the TARDIS while the big, strong men did all the important stuff out here. Even if she had no clue what they were doing and couldn't have helped them if they'd wanted her to. At least the Doctor had had the common courtesy to introduce her to Alex, though she'd had to remind him. Pointedly. Twice. And she still had no idea who or what the man was beyond his name.

She glared at them. Bastards. Men were all bastards. Bastards with nice bums, but bastards nonetheless.

The nice bum she'd looked at the most straightened and turned, and its owner looked startled to see her. "I didn't realise you were still here," the Doctor said.

Rose shrugged. "Yeah, well…. Been so long since I was in here, I just felt… I dunno, more comfortable." More comfortable than being sequestered in a bedroom, or worse, locked in listening to her mother complain about being in an alien spaceship.

The Doctor grinned, the bright glorious grin she'd always loved. "That's all right," he said. "The TARDIS missed you. Having you back on board will be good for her." He patted the console affectionately, then stepped towards her. "You've warmed up, I see. And Martha did a nice job on your ankle, though I probably should get you to the infirmary and get it healed."

"No, s'all right," Rose said firmly. "You're needed here. Though, if you were going to change into dry clothes, a couple of hours ago might have been the time."

He looked down at his wrinkled, rumpled clothes, which had dried on him as he'd worked, and grimaced. "Not precisely my usual suave, debonair self, am I? James Bond would be horrified."

"James Bond wouldn't be caught dead in one of your suits," Rose pointed out, grinning. "He's more a black-tie man."

"True," the Doctor sighed. "And I've never fancied tuxes. You always have to wear those horrible, uncomfortable shoes." He stuck out a foot and examined his water-stained Chucks. "I can't abide uncomfortable shoes, but ugly comfortable ones are nearly as bad. Shoes should make a fashion statement, and these certainly do, you must admit."

"What statement's that?" Rose asked mischievously. "'I never left the 1980s'?"

"Oi!" he protested over Jack's laughter from below the decking. "I'll have you know Chucks are some of the most advanced shoes ever made. Only the very best for my Time Lord feet. We should get you a pair," he added, looking down at her single trainer; her right foot was far too swollen for a shoe. "If you'd been wearing high-tops, you'd have had support for your ankle and wouldn't have sprained it so badly."

"If I'd been wearing high-tops, I'd never have left the house because I'd've been too embarrassed to be seen."

"There you go! Still no sprained ankle. I'm telling you, Chucks are the way to go." He held out his hand to her. "Not much left to do here, mostly just putting the coverings back on. The TARDIS has to do the rest of it herself; she's just got to heal. Might as well get you healed as well."

She took his hand and slid down off the chair. The room abruptly whirled around her, and she found herself in the Doctor's arms, looking up at him in confusion. "Oh," she said, blinking. "I think I'm dizzy."

"I think you're right," the Doctor said, his brow furrowed and his voice full of the worry she could feel radiating from him. She'd missed that, being able to feel his emotions when they were touching. He could feel hers anytime they were near each other, but she'd always had to actually touch him. Part of being human, not Gallifreyan. "When did you last eat?"

"Erm." She thought back. "Breakfast? No, lunch. I had a cheese sandwich." And breakfast, as per usual, had come back up a couple of hours before that anyway, though she didn't feel the need to tell him. She didn't think she could deal with his guilt over having subjected her to twelve months of on-again, off-again morning sickness.

"Lunch," the Doctor repeated. "And that was what, noon? Almost nine hours ago. No wonder you're dizzy." He bent and picked her up again, the way he'd done on the beach. She couldn't find it in herself to argue, with the way the world was still tilting precariously. "Ankle, food, and rest, in that order," he said firmly, turning to the others. "Can you two finish up?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Alex said, wiping his greasy hands on an old red cloth as Jack hoisted himself back up onto the floor and replaced the grating. "Nearly done in any case. Go take care of M—of Rose."

"Go on, Doc," Jack agreed. "We'll see you in the morning."

"Oh, I can come back—" the Doctor began to protest, but stopped when he saw the Look in Jack's eyes.

"We can finish up with the TARDIS just fine. We'll see you _in the morning_, Doc," Jack repeated, his voice thick with meaning and his eyes boring into the Doctor's. Rose tried not to grin.

"Er—right," the Doctor said, blinking uncertainly. "Right, then. Off we go. Get you patched up. Good night, Jack, Alex." He started off toward the infirmary without waiting for a response, and added in a slightly lower voice, "I'm rather surprised you're not arguing over my carrying you again."

"I would," Rose admitted. "But I'm still dizzy, and I don't fancy lurching about the TARDIS on crutches. I might knock one of 'em into her and hurt her."

He favoured her with another of those dazzling smiles. "See, that's why she likes you so much: you don't only think of yourself. And you accept her as another living, breathing creature, not just a ship." He paused, then an eyebrow rose. "Hm. You know, she may be trying to heal herself, but I'm betting she's going to try to do something nice for us even so. Since we've been separated so long and all." He turned in at the infirmary door, set Rose on the same table she'd been on earlier, and kissed her gently but firmly before turning to rifle in a drawer.

"Something nice for us?" Rose asked, delighted. She'd had some lovely surprises from the TARDIS while she'd been travelling with the Doctor before, including a false window in the bedroom that had displayed varying space-scapes: different scenes every day or two, but always something gloriously, breathtakingly beautiful.

"Oh, yes. The bedroom's been quite boring and utilitarian for some time; she'll want to decorate for us." He turned back around with the dermal regenerator in his hand. Setting it down beside her, he began to remove the bandage around her ankle. "Larger bed, nicer furnishings, posh linens—you never know what she'll come up with."

A jolt of surprise went through Rose. Though they'd been lovers before, she'd always maintained a room of her own, mostly out of habit. Consequently, the idea of openly sharing a bedroom was new. Attractive, oh yes; she'd used her old room for nothing more than storing her things the last few months she'd been with him, after all. His room had been, to all intents and purposes, hers.

But to openly share a bedroom with the Doctor—with her parents on board—

The Doctor had paused in his actions, and was looking at her, eyebrows raised. "Something wrong?" he asked quietly.

"I—it's—no—nothing's wrong, it's just—" She stopped, shook her head, took a breath, framed her sentence clearly in her mind, and tried again. "It's a little—weird—for my parents to know we're sleeping together, is all."

He chuckled and rested his hand on the swell of her belly. "I think they'd worked that out, Rose."

She blushed. "Well, yeah, I know—but it's just—I don't know—"

He set bandage and regenerator aside and took her hands, standing between her knees and looking into her eyes. "I understand," he said. "It's a big step, not just being together but letting everyone know we're together. I'm nervous as well. But it's a step I want to take, Rose, and not just because you're pregnant. I want everyone to know we're together because you're _you_. There's not a blessed thing Jackie or Pete or Mickey or Jake or anyone else has to say about it." A smile twisted a corner of his mouth. "And I think I've dealt sufficiently with my terror of domesticity, at least in your case."

She could feel the love, comfort, desire, and, yes, nervousness radiating off him, and managed a tremulous smile. "'Kay," she said.

"Your voice is shaky," he noted, brow creasing slightly. "Is that nerves, hunger, or pain?"

"Well, you can read my emotions," she said with an attempt at cheekiness. "What do you think?"

The frown went away and he laughed. "Some nerves, lots of hunger, and a little bit of pain," he diagnosed. "We'll get the last taken care of here, then we'll find your other shoe and get you to the kitchen to take care of the second."

"And what about the first?"

He released her hand to brush a knuckle against her cheek. "That'll only go away with time. But we've got time." He grinned again, and she grinned back. "All right. Healing and food, then bed."

"But not to sleep for awhile, yeah?" Rose asked saucily.

"Oh, definitely not," he agreed.


End file.
